Standing Aside
by sakanascales876
Summary: When Mamoru surprisingly finds the Silver Crystal, he'll do anything to get his hands on it to protect it. But when the price is to match up some bratty kid with Tsukino Usagi, will he be able to go through with it when feelings start to get in the way?
1. Bargains

Alright people! Wow, here's the re-written version of chapter one! I hope that I've eradicated all of the grammatical errors, thanks to the wonderful beta-ing of **StarryNight101** (check out her stories; they're great). And I'm sorry this took so long! I've been in a writing depression! But this chapter is replacing chapter one, but the other three crappy chapters are going to remain up until I can replace them as well. I'm not fond of them, so I don't recommend that you read them after reading this. There's almost a completely different plot-twist to this one than the old one, so I'll try and get chapter two revised as soon as possible. Here's the standard 'I don't own Sailor Moon,' and just one more anouncement. Since this chapter is only being _replaced_, it's not going to show up as having been updated, so until I post chapter five, if you want to figure out if there's been a new revised chapter I put it in the author's notes of my drabbles: Bottom of the Barrel, and it's pretty big and bold so it'll be pretty hard to miss.

_Just to say, Kyuubei Sadao and his Grandpa is going to be the only OC in this story, and he is there for a purpose. Normally, I don't like when a random OC  
is just inserted for no reason, but this one has a reason and will be here for a majority of the story! _

**_Summary: _**_**When **_**Mamoru**_** surprisingly finds the Silver Crystal, he'll do anything to get his hands on it to protect it. But when the price is to match up some bratty kid with Tsukino Usagi, will he be able to go through with it when feelings start to get in the way?**_

**_Title: Standing Aside  
Rating: T, due to language, and most likely _**only **_language.  
First Season Usagi/Mamoru  
Romance/Humor_**

Well, that's all I really have to say for now.

Please Review, and enjoy (But no flames, only constructive criticism. I don't want to go THERE again...).

****

* * *

Standing Aside

Chapter 1: Bargains

by sakanscales876

* * *

"Personally, I think that it's in the detergent," Motoki explained as he scrubbed mercilessly at the tiny spot. "I just _hate _it when they expect me to-"

"No one expects anything from you; your dad owns this place," Mamoru muttered neutrally, not lifting his eyes from his textbook. "And you're going to put a hole in the counter if you keep rubbing all that crap on it."

Motoki blinked, switching the towel in his hand to only one finger. "What's wrong with this stuff?"

"It's a corrosive cleaning product."

"…So?"

Mamoru plucked off his glasses and raised an eyebrow at his best friend. "Corrosive means that it will burn you."

"How can you tell this stuff's cardio—-sal…ive?" Motoki frowned, trying to recall the word Mamoru had just used. His eyes slid out of focus and into deep thought, scanning through his brain's file cabinets for his science vocab. The distinctive sound of a finger snapping at him bounced off his ears, and Motoki, irritated and confused, glared at his companion.

"First, it's _corrosive_; that's Junior High stuff, man. You're in med-school, too, right? Second, I don't know that it's corrosive, but it's got a pretty potent smell like ammonia," Mamoru stated, the corners of his lips twitching only a millimeter.

Motoki scoffed, ringing out the towel over the nearest sink and resolutely scrubbing at the tiny fleck of what looked like caked up mustard that had plagued him for so long. "Oh, well ammonia can't burn through anything."

"True," Mamoru began. "But if you mixed that stuff with bleach then you'll have single-handedly created a poisonous gas."

Motoki dropped the towel onto the counter, an 'I-should-have-known' look forming on his face.

Mamoru smirked, turning back to his book and folding in his page for later. "Let me guess; you mixed it."

"Why must your science ruin everything for me?"

"Did you?"

Motoki faltered. "Yup."

Mamoru made a real show of closing up his textbooks, callously dropping them into his bag to give Motoki the impression that he was irritated. His only friend jumped as Mamoru's large hands palmed the table, making him wince at his own hostility. "What are you just standing there for, idiot? Get rid of it!"

Motoki flinched away from him and ducked into the back room, leaving a mocking spot and a somewhat remorseful Mamoru behind. He frowned; one of these days even _Motoki_ wouldn't be willing to put up with his crap anymore.

That thought alone made him nervous.

He heaved a sigh and slumped over onto the counter, clenching his coffee tightly in his fist. At the moment, he didn't want to think. Exams were coming up, homework was _not_ lessening in the least, and not even the usual comfort of coffee could at least stabilize all the thoughts in his head. Now he knew how the Odango was such a train-wreck. _Wait,_ he thought, _she'd have to have a brain for that._ With an arrogant smirk, he relished the feel of the warm beverage sliding smoothly down his throat.

It was so comforting; it _almost_ made him want to ignore the splash against his face. And the burning. Following that was the cursing…then the anger. He reached up brusquely brushed the burning liquid from the region around his eyes, taking a full minute to allow his bleary vision to focus on Motoki.

"Oh my God, Mamoru-kun! I'm so sorry! The bucket was heavy and it swayed and then it just-just fell right into your face!" Motoki stuttered, staring intently at the strong smelling bucket at their feet.

"Really?" Mamoru hissed. "I hadn't noticed!" The area now reeked of ammonia and bleach, and the smell was starting to make him light-headed.

"It's fine; I'm fine!" Mamoru growled, covering his eyes as Motoki tried vainly to hand Mamoru a towel.

Motoki searched his face, concerned. "Are you sure?"

Mamoru leaned on the counter for support, his arms tensely gripping the edge as if to lessen the amount of chemical seeping into his skin. "Just clean this stuff up, Motoki, before your customers start keeling over from the smell!"

He didn't wait for Motoki's dutiful nod, or see his expression of guilt as the clerk jogged into the kitchen for a mop. Swiping the clean towel that Motoki had tossed hastily onto the counter, he managed to get as much of the sting out of his eyes as he could. The smell alone was _really_ starting to get to him, making him a bit nauseous.

Within less than a minute, Motoki was back once more, hopping toward him on one foot as the other pushed a wheeled-bucket of mop water over to the spill. Clumsily, he soaked the entire area with water, swabbing the linoleum with a vengeance.

Mamoru watched his friend with slight amusement, though the distinct burning of the cleaning chemicals on his face and neck left him in a sour mood. Motoki seemed to sense this, for he looked up a bit sheepishly.

"Are you okay?"

"As long as that bucket of mop water isn't filled with any sulfuric acid," Mamoru said, eyeing the water distrustfully.

Motoki followed his eyes and gave out a strained laugh. "Nah, I was saving that stuff for your coffee one day."

Mamoru rolled his eyes and busied himself with gathering his stuff. Usually he would've taken his time to neatly put back all his papers and books in their organized positions, but his skin was really starting to agitate him. He slung the bag over his shoulder, reaching into one of the front pouches and tossing some money onto the counter.

"You're leaving?" Motoki asked, pausing his mopping to stare at Mamoru.

Said college student took one last swig of his coffee before turning to face his friend. "I need a shower, man. I can't walk around smelling like bleach."

Motoki seemed to blush at his own stupidity as he stared at Mamoru's retreating back, barely managing a choked, "Goodbye" as the automatic doors whooshed a current of fresh air around before closing once more.

* * *

The cumulous clouds swiveled gracefully through the sky, the inky grays and blacks shadowing the early morning sun. Personally, Mamoru was glad that it hadn't yet peeked beyond the clouds; it would dry his torso within minutes and then it would take _weeks_ to get his favorite jacket to stop smelling so horribly. His feet were moving of their own accord, taking him down the familiar streets that would eventually lead him to his apartment, thank the gods.

Though he desperately craved a shower, he had at least another three hours before his class began, leaving him with a little extra time to wander through the streets of Tokyo. He didn't leave his route, but he did, however, begin to notice some shops and buildings that he had never stopped to recognize before. The current area he was in seemed to be littered with trinket stores, selling paper fans, T-shirts, and even key-chains as far as the eye could see. His eyes fell particularly on an outspoken little boy who was having an absolute fit about some kind of stuffed toy with his exasperated mother, who was adamantly refusing him.

His feet stopped moving.

It was more like a jerk actually, like there was some invisible force of wind that pushed him back. Confused, Mamoru began to whip his head around, looking for anything that might warrant suspicion. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, but suddenly, his head seemed to turn to the left, practically bashing his face against a window.

"Jovial Jewelers," he read aloud. "In business since 1948, serving only the finest quality jewelry to meet your needs." Mamoru stared at the yellow-chipped letters distastefully. Certainly it was not the most clever slogan…or name. He squinted through the tinted glass to see inside, not all too disappointed when he only caught a brief outline of what was there: A few chairs in the corners, and a large display case that seemed to be glittering with jewelry; nothing special.

Scoffing, he took a step back. Why on Earth was his gut telling him that this shop was where he needed to be at the moment? Of course, the Dark Kingdom did blend in very well with the general public, turning their energy gatherings into elaborate marketing schemes. Perhaps this little jewelry store was being used for one of their operations. He shook his head; it didn't seem right at all.

"What are you eyeballing, boy?" a gruff, throaty voice called from behind him. Mamoru slowly turned around, shifting his gaze toward an elderly man who looked no older than seventy.

His hair was an ashy gray, though it only seemed to grow around the sides of his head wildly, giving him the look of a minor lunatic. And not to mention, it left a shiny bald spot at the top, with a matching unruly goatee at the tip of his chin. The man crossed his arms over his chest, leaving his cane to rest at his side. His eyes were narrowed, and for a moment, Mamoru tried to count the wrinkles that formed there, only to mentally slap himself. One: What was he thinking? And two: That's incredibly rude! It seemed like something that only the Odango would be stupid enough to do.

"I asked you a question."

Mamoru jolted back to reality and respectfully bowed at the elder, muttering, "I'm sorry sir, but I didn't quite catch what you said."

He thought his words were polite enough, and he certainly was not expecting to get bashed over the head with the old geezer's orthopedic shoe! "Listen kid, I'm sixty-six, so I'm allowed to be hard at hearing. You, however, need to go out and buy yourself a damn hearing aide if you can't even tell that I'm ready to beat the living pajamas out of you!"

Mamoru resisted the urge to laugh, and he also resisted the urge to punch the old man in the face. "And what exactly did I do to warrant such hostility?" he asked coolly, turning his piercing eyes down on the elder.

The shoe made contact with his face once again.

"Don't use your smart talk with me, boy! I have half a mind to call the cops on you!" the man growled, shaking the shoe threateningly at him.

"And on what basis do you have for calling the cops on _me?_ If I'm correct, you're the one that came out here and started beating the shit out of me with your shoe." He tried to keep the malice out of his voice. If it wasn't for the fact that his skin was starting to burn again, he probably would have shoved one of his roses up the old man's ass by now.

Surprise, surprise; he got smacked with the shoe _again_.

"This is _my _store, you little hoodlum! And look, genius, there's a _sign_ there that says specifically, 'No loitering'!"

The words were out of his mouth before he could think. "The sidewalk's public property; you have no right to kick me off."

While the man was angrily smacking the living hell out of Mamoru, he noticed something dangling around the man's slightly sagging neck. Then Mamoru saw it; a tiny, golden chain hanging down on old man's chest, resting at the top of his collared shirt. On the end was a jewel about the size of a walnut, gleaming rainbows even in the dull light. It was clear as a diamond, but Mamoru could feel an unexplainable energy radiating off of it.

Speechless and slightly angry, Mamoru could do nothing but stutter. "I-uh…" his eyes shifted from the necklace to the man's face.

The old man furrowed his bushy eyebrows for a moment. "What's the matter with you?"

Even though the tone was parading sarcasm, Mamoru ignored it. The silver glimmer of the necklace was much more important than anything that could've been said.

Irritated, the old man rolled his eyes, turning from Mamoru and making his way back over to the shop. "Quit loitering and scram, boy!" Shortly followed by, "Kids these days…"

Mamoru stood there in complete shock, and the minutes slowly ticked by as he gaped at the now empty sidewalk. This was why he had been brought here. He had finally found it.

Why on Earth did he want to kiss somebody now?

The Maboroshi no Ginzuishou

* * *

The drizzling rain was shaken from the sky, sprinkling the people below in tiny teardrops of water. A lone figure stood at the very top of Tokyo Tower, staring below at the people who slowly began to dissipate as every clock in the city struck midnight.

His cape billowed in the wind that swirled around him, black suit blending in with the black sky, the white half mask being the lone object that made him even slightly decipherable in the night. Suave as sin, he leapt from the tower, the hard impact of his feet landing on metal leaving nothing but a delicate clack from his shoes.

With agility, he jumped from rooftop to rooftop, into a less familiar part of Tokyo. Very few people were out on the sidewalk, he noted, which was a good thing for what he was about to do. Fewer witnesses meant less trouble, and trouble was the last thing he could afford at the moment.

Skidding to a stop, he slid down one of the fire escapes on the side of the targeted building, wincing as he lost a bit of control resulting in pain as his feet hit the ground. He was in an alley, the dim lights reflecting off the bricks, making everything appear slightly red. Poking his head out into the street, he glanced to see if there were any people about. Excitement bubbled within him as he noticed that he was indeed alone.

He darted up to the store; quickly taking out one of the pins he had acquired earlier and picked the lock. Slowly, he pushed the door open, reaching an arm in to still the bell tied to the ceiling in hopes to stop it from making any noise. Successful, he swiftly crossed the room to the display cases, pulling out a flashlight from his Sub-Space-Pocket. He clicked it once and shined it into the glass, the gems within dancing against the light.

But a different light flickered on, illuminating the entire store.

And the only thing Tuxedo Kamen heard was a shout, a shattering of glass, and the thump against the carpet that his body made as he hit the floor.

* * *

A brusque voice called to him as rough hands shook him awake. "Dude, wake up!" He heard a sigh of exasperation. "Come on, you pansy! Get up!"

Mamoru groaned and lifted a gloved hand to pinch the throbbing bridge of his nose. Glove. Soft. White. Silky. Glove…_glove?_ He—He couldn't still be Tuxedo Kamen, could he? He frantically ran his hand over his face in search of his domino mask. Gone.

Shit. _SHIT!_

Popping open an eye, Mamoru came face to face with a boy in his early teens that was staring him in the face with angry, almond-shaped eyes. His shaggy brown hair fell past his eyebrows, though it was still well kept and clean, as well as his light red shirt and faded blue jeans. The boy was thin, yet built around the torso with slight muscle.

The boy snapped his fingers in front of Mamoru's face. "Yo, nuts-for-brains! I don't want to say this again: _Get. Up."_

His vision still blurry and unfocused, Mamoru stared back into the boy's eyes, which he was able to determine were drawn in a scowl. "Urr-hi."

"Finally learned how to talk, eh? Who wants a cookie?" The boy said with a scoff, gliding off of the shag carpet and offering a worn hand to Mamoru. He ignored the gesture and gave a smirk, pushing himself off the ground with only one hand supporting his weight. Unfortunately, the boy seemed unfazed.

Scowl still plastered on his face, the teen slowly walked backwards toward the counter, keeping his eyes trained on Mamoru. Unblinking, he opened the cash register and began sorting through the money.

Mamoru cocked an eyebrow in confusion. "What are you-"

"You've been out for about an hour," the boy interrupted, his tone monotonous.

Mamoru bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from scolding the kid about manners. "That wasn't what I was asking-"

"Uh, you broke into _my_ store," the boy retorted. "Which means you don't get the right to start asking _me _all the questions." Shortly after he added, "Moron."

Mamoru raised his eyebrows, though not out of surprise. "You've got a lot of nerve talking to me like that, kid. And as you put it, I did break into your store, so don't think that I won't kill you if I need to."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me, shrimp."

Mamoru frowned…usually he would never resort to such childish taunting. This boy was just a high caliber smart ass. Nothing he hadn't dealt with before. Why was he acting so strange?

The boy's pupils raised but his head did not. "If it _really_ pains you to know, I was just making sure you hadn't stolen anything from the register." His tone struggled to stay calm, though Mamoru could obviously tell that the kid wanted to punch him in the face. "But the fact remains that _you_ broke into _my_ store; breaking and entering, sir."

"Then you'll have an assault charge on your ass for bashing that lamp over my head, genius," Mamoru said, nodding towards the broken glass that was scattered at his feet.

"That was self defense…and you're going to pay for that lamp."

Mamoru smirked. "Make me."

The boy faked a yawn and leant over the counter, regarding Mamoru with tired eyes. This situation was starting to wear on him as well. And the fact that their conversations were now going around in circles didn't help either. So far, he could deduce that this boy was at least intelligent, and uncommonly gifted with a quick wit that could rival his own. This boy also reeked of confidence, masses of arrogance, and enough common sense to realize that not _everybody _could bully him. Well, Mamoru wasn't _everybody_, darn it.

_He _was Mamoru, a superhero, a genius, etc. Nobody could surpass him, and no one could bring him down. Arrogant of him, but true. And it was these thoughts that made him draw the conclusion that this boy and he _were exactly alike._

Damn. Irritated, he ran his gloved hand through his hair, further ruffling it and causing him to wince as he clumsily ran his fingers over the swollen bump that was now forming on his head.

"Hurts, huh? Good; you deserved it."

Mamoru raised his eyes to stare the boy down, suppressing a growl within his throat. "Who the hell taught you that it was okay to bash a stranger's face in with a lamp upon greeting?"

"'S not important," the boy grunted. "And you didn't exactly greet me rather warmly either, Mr. Thief."

"That's because you broke a lamp over my head, idiot!" shouted Mamoru, gesturing wildly at the broken glass on the floor.

The boy was unaffected; something that Mamoru thought was a bit strange. "Well gee, what would you have done if some pansy in a Tuxedo broke into your home at one in the morning?"

"I don't know. Maybe I would have called the _police or something_?"

"Oh?" the boy said, reaching for the phone. "So you're saying that I should call the cops on you?"

"No, you little brat, I-," Mamoru groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Lord, let the kid call the cops; it couldn't be any worse than dealing with this kid.

The boy smirked and leant his chin on tanned arms. "Convince me, Cape-Boy. All I want to know is why the hell you were in my Grandpa's store-"

"That's none of your damn business."

For once, the fierceness of Mamoru's voice caused the boy to flinch, but it was quickly covered up within a second. The boy feigned a yawn and began to leisurely make his way over to the phone. "I guess I'll just have to get the _authorities,"_ he rolled the word off his tongue, tapping his fingers against the cordless phone. "Involved. And how happy and surprised would they be when I tell them that I know the exact identity of Tokyo's own little vigilante-hero."

Mamoru froze as his mind went blank for a moment. So caught up in the prospect of finding the Ginzushou he had completely forgotten the possible consequences of being there. This kid…this smart-assed little kid knew who he was…and he'd be damned if he was going to let the brat blow the cover he'd been hiding so well for so long.

"If you tell, I swear to-"

"Mmm, now you're threatening me? Geez, when _they_ list all your charges it may take a couple days, eh, Kamen?"

Mamoru clenched his teeth to prevent himself from shouting, or worse. "Listen kid. I don't have to tell you anything. What I'm doing here is strictly my business and mine alone. But do not misunderstand me; should you even think off telling anybody my identity I swear to you that you will _never_ see the light of day again."

"Really, Kamen? I honestly didn't think that superheroes threatened innocent people. How disappointing…"

"Innocent my ass. You speak far too boldly to someone who could snap your spine like a twig."

The boy grimaced, but he didn't flinch in the slightest. "I'm not afraid of you-"

"When you say that it automatically means that you are."

"-Now tell me why you're here or I'll tell the world your little secret."

Mamoru bristled at this. "You just love being a Grade A asshole, don't you?"

"Sure do." The boy grinned cheekily. "It's all part of the job."

"Well, I need to be doing my job-,"

"Which I want to know what that is."

"I can't tell you." Mamoru was getting thoroughly exasperated. His remaining patience was dangling by a hang-nail, and he was almost hoping that it would soon wither away so he could just get out of there.

The boy laughed, and Mamoru found himself one step closer to considering punching the whelp's teeth clean out of his mouth.

"I've got a phone call to the cops right here and now that says you can."

His very insides clenched in anger. In his life, he had dealt with some pretty tough kids at his orphanage, but every time they ridiculed him he'd always been the one who knew how to retaliate appropriately. But never in his ten years there had he ever met anybody that could set him off this badly. Except for the Odango, but that wasn't really _genuine _anger either.

"Yeah? And I've got a dagger in my back pocket right here and now that says I can answer to whatever the hell I damn well please."

Instinctively, his fingers curled around the hem of his pocket. It was a lie; he left his dagger at home. But he did have an unlimited supply of steel-tipped roses.

The boy gave him a blank stare. "Then I'll just tell everybody that you're Tuxedo Kamen."

It was Mamoru's turn to smirk. "You don't know my name."

"I don't have to," the boy mocked. "There's a new invention these days called, 'Sketch Artists,' and it'd be pretty difficult to forget a face as ugly as yours."

"True, but there's a mechanism in the brain that will automatically _make_ you forget my face the minute it's brought into question," Mamoru said with a smile, though his insides were boiling. He had no idea if the glamour actually worked like that, and he wasn't too keen on risking it either. He glared at the hideous green carpet, wanting to kick something, or more accurately, he wanted to kick the boy in the face.

The boy shrugged indifferently. "Then what've I got to lose? There's definitely evidence that _somebody_ broke in here tonight, so _someone's _going to get caught…eventually." He reached for the phone and picked it up to listen for the dial tone before lifting his finger to dial.

But he didn't make it. In less than a second, the cordless phone was flung out of his hand and pinned to the wall beneath a thorny, velvety red rose that seemed to spark from the amount of energy that it had absorbed. Golden light circulated around it like tiny strands of lightning, frightening away any who dared to pry the now broken and useless phone from its final resting place.

The boy didn't even hide his gawk as he stared frightened at the older man who was glaring at him so contemptuously that he was positive tiny missiles were going to shoot out of Mamoru's eyes if he dared to move.

Mamoru lowered his outstretched arm and strode slowly over the counter, relishing in the fact that the boy was slowly backing away to the little door that would allow him to dart across the room. He wasn't quick enough, for in a matter of seconds, Mamoru was already slumped causally over the glass cases by the time the boy could even muster a weak glare.

"What the hell are you-"

"I told you not to call the police," Mamoru said simply. "But you've got some nice rings in here…"

"Cut the shit, Kamen! Just-just go away!" There was a quiver in the boy's voice.

Mamoru inwardly smirked. It seemed that it was _he_ who had the upper hand now, and he was going to play it as long as he could as he tried to formulate a plan in his mind.

"Nah, I'm actually quite comfortable here. Tell me, do you accept Visa or MasterCard?"

"W-What do you want?" the boy uttered shakily, though his glower was fierce enough for Mamoru's distaste.

He smirked nonetheless. "Oh? So you've finally got an understanding of your position in all this, have you?"

"What. Do. You. Want?" the boy spat, deciding against adding, "Asshole."

"Listen," Mamoru said slowly. "One: You are not going to speak about this to anyone. And when I say anyone, I mean _anyone_. Two: If you reach for the phone again, I'm going to chop your hand off, as well as the arm connected to it, got that?"

He didn't wait for the boy's brittle nod to continue. "And three: There was an old man here earlier this morning, and around his neck was a necklace with a very large crystal/jewel on the end. I want-no, _must_ have that necklace. I know he stormed back in here after smacking me with a friggin' shoe, so if you would be so kind as to tell me where he is now, I would appreciate it."

The boy's chin trembled as he seemed to be internally struggling with something. Probably not punching him in the face, Mamoru guessed, but his knuckles were turning white with anger, so he couldn't be too sure…

"What do you want with my Grandpa?" the boy said calmly, almost eerily in Mamoru's opinion.

Though he was surprised at the sudden change of attitude, he could feel that beneath his exterior, the boy was angry. Since he didn't want to be played and have the boy tell him that his Grandpa's in Bangladesh, he decided to play it nice. At least, as nice as Mamoru could be.

"I don't want anything except that necklace. I don't aspire to hurt your Grandfather, though I can easily see where you developed your lunacy now," Mamoru stated.

After a moment, the boy seemed to release a breath that Mamoru hadn't realized the kid was holding in, and his shoulders sagged back to what he supposed was their normal position: slumped.

"He can't help that," the boy muttered. "He's always been a temperamental guy."

Temperamental? Not quite the words he would have used to describe a crazy old man who'd beat the living shit out of him with a shoe.

Mamoru drummed his fingers on the glass. "Well, I need you to get that necklace from him for me or at least bring him here so I can talk to him. It's crucial you do this now."

The boy pursed his lips. "Are you kidding me? That man's been wearing that little gem ever since I can remember. He doesn't take it off. Ever. He doesn't even let me touch it. And even if he did, why on earth should I give it to you?"

Mamoru groaned. Really? Did this all really have to be so difficult? Who on Earth hated him today?

"Because, if I don't have that crystal, then a lot of people are going to die."

The boy scoffed. "I don't believe you."

Mamoru grasped the boy by the back of the neck, despite his vehement protests, and turned his head toward the wall where the phone had been pinned.

"I never said you had to believe me, but imagine that, except ten times worse happening to every single person on this Earth."

The boy said nothing, though he seemed to be considering the options. The time grew on to the point where even the ever patient Mamoru was starting to get annoyed.

"In other words, if my enemies get to him first, they'll just kill him. I want the necklace to protect it."

He could've sworn he heard the boy mutter, "I'd love to see them try to take her on…" but quickly dismissed the notion. After a few moments, the boy finally spoke. "I really can't help you. He'd never consider giving that necklace to a stranger."

"I'm not a complete stranger," Mamoru corrected. "I'm a superhero that's trying to save you."

The boy resolutely shook his head and walked around the counter and past Mamoru, locating a broom and passing it tom him. "I'm really sorry, but I can't do anything…now help me clean this up and then get out of here."

The boy knelt with a dustpan, and Mamoru sighed and turned to look at him. "Then could you at least let me talk to him? I might be able to strike up a deal?"

He was too close now to let this slip through his fingers! This was an even too incomprehensible for this kid, and if he had to take the Ginzushou by force, he would.

The boy scowled as they swept up the glass. "Nope. My Grandpa left early this afternoon to go to Europe. He's got a deal with this other jewelry guy who wants to open up a chain of stores with him."

Mamoru cocked an eyebrow. "He left you in charge?"

In an instant, he found himself face-to-face with a murderous looking teenager. "Who are you to say I'm not capable of taking care of this place while he's gone?"

Mamoru clicked his tongue. "I wasn't saying you aren't capable."

The boy didn't waver. "It sure as heck sounded like it."

"Didn't mean to sound offensive," Mamoru spoke lowly. "When's your Grandfather coming back?"

"Three weeks."

Crap. There was no way in hell that Mamoru was going to wait that long for the Ginzushou, now that he knew where it was. There was a better chance that he was going to fly to Europe and track the old man down before he just sat around and waited for his return.

"Are you _sure_ there's absolutely nothing you can do?" Mamoru asked searchingly.

The boy immediately averted his eyes and went back to cleaning up the remains of the lamp. "Nope," he said, and Mamoru noticed as his ears and neck began to flush a bit.

"You're lying." A statement, Mamoru knew, was true. The boy's body language screamed, "I'm a liar! God have mercy!" and it was proven in a second when the boy was back up and in his face within a second. He barely reached Mamoru's upper arm.

"I am not!" he shouted defiantly.

"Okay," Mamoru laughed, though firm. "You're acting way too defensive and you're also blushing like a little girl. Either you think I'm unobservant or incredibly stupid, and I _hope_ it's not the latter or you're in for a world of pain."

Mamoru's mind cackled as he heard what sounded like a growl escape from the moody teen. But then, with all seriousness, Mamoru leaned down so that he was merely an inch or two away from the boy's face.

"What are you hiding from me?" he asked, searching the kid's eyes for even a trace of a lie.

The boy held his insolent stare. "Ab-so-lute-ly _nothing_."

Mamoru allowed his eyes to glance at the destroyed phone. "See that?" he asked. "That's going to be you in about a minute if you don't tell me everything I need to know."

"You don't _need_ to know anything."

The boy turned back to sweeping before letting out a yelp as Mamoru grasped the back of his collar and hoisted him about half a foot off the ground with one arm. Thank God for Tuxedo Kamen's added strength, for the boy didn't look nearly as heavy as he was. It was quite the opposite.

But at the moment, Mamoru didn't really care. It was the middle of the night and he wanted to go to bed. He was _going to get answers!_

"We could stay here all night talking in circles or you could tell me exactly what I want to know so we can both get on with our lives."

The boy struggled for a moment before hanging limply in his grip, red coloring his cheeks in embarrassment.

"Put. Me. Down," he barked.

"Not until you tell me what I want to know."

"Go to hell!"

"Believe me; I've been there for a majority of my life."

The boy glowered at him, clearly contemplating on trying to kick him and escape.

A thought suddenly occurred to Mamoru. "What's your name?" he asked.

The boy jolted in surprise. "What?"

"Your name," he repeated. "What is it?"

The boy frowned and regarded Mamoru with untrusting eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

"We've been arguing about absolutely nothing for over an hour now, and I'd also like to know the name of the boy who was actually stupid enough to knock me out with a desk lamp."

"O-oh," the boy stuttered. "It's Kyuubei Sadao."

Mamoru nodded. "Okay then, Kyuubei-san." A steel tipped rose shot out of his wrist, and he flipped the stem in between his fingers. "Whatever it is you're hiding, you're going to tell me now, or I'm going to slit your throat, okay?"

Sadao raised his arms defensively. "I swear to God the cops are going to arrest your sorry ass if you do."

"How?" Mamoru taunted. "You're the only one who's seen my face, my alter-ego has an alibi and no motive, and it would take me about three and a half seconds to get rid of all blood or other traces of me in this building. And even if they somehow got their hands on my DNA by an act of God, it still wouldn't trace back to me."

"Why not?" Sadao asked, eyeing the rose warily.

Mamoru edged it closer to the boy's throat. "When I become Tuxedo Kamen, my DNA changes. In other words, I don't exist."

"Bullshit."

"I'd like to hear you say that when I'm wiping your blood off the carpet."

After a moment, Mamoru felt Sadao's neck shift as he gulped. "If I agree to tell you, will you put me down?"

"Of course."

The boy nodded and Mamoru placed him back on the ground, allowing him a moment to regain his breath.

"You'd better start talking, and soon," Mamoru warned as the boy massaged his neck.

Sadao nodded, though his eyes quickly drew into a scowl. "The necklace is here, moron."

"But you said your Grandfather-"

"No, _you said_ that you wanted to talk to my Grandpa, but I never said he took the necklace with him."

Mamoru's eyes widened. "Where is it? Take me to it, _now_."

"I can't," Sadao said. "I swore to Gramps that I'd protect it with my life!"

Mamoru lowered his head and grabbed Sadao's shoulder's, forcing him to look directly into his eyes.

"If I don't get that necklace, then your life, along with the other six point five billion lives on this planet is going to end."

"I can't," he repeated firmly. "I promised."

"Are you seriously going to let everybody die just because of a stupid little promise?" Mamoru hissed harshly.

Sadao said nothing.

Mamoru sighed, reprimanding himself for getting a bit overworked. "Listen Kyuubei-san. I'm not just saying for you to give me the necklace. I can pay you-I'll do anything it takes to get that crystal."

"Even if I agreed, there's no way the old man wouldn't notice it missing when he gets back!" Sadao shouted. "It's not like I can just take it and give it to you!"

"Are you sure there isn't _any_ way? _Any _way at all?" Mamoru inquired.

"Not unless you plan on killing him because the only way I'm going to get to touch that thing is if he dies!" Sadao said, shaking his head.

"Well," Mamoru began, trying to get overworked. "Could you think of a way you could get him to give it to you early? Prove yourself trustworthy of it?"

Sadao winced. "I could…but he'd yell at me if I just took it and then gave it away."

"He's not going to know," Mamoru said. "I can find a way to get somebody to make replica of it. You just have to give it to me."

"No," Sadao spat. "Why should I give it to you? How do I even know that you're not the one who's trying to destroy everybody? I could just give it to the Sailor Senshi."

Please," Mamoru said. "I'll do anything, get anything. I can pay you…buy you some toy -"

"I'm not a toddler."

"I hardly noticed," Mamoru huffed.

Sadao clicked his tongue before shaking his head. "I don't need your help with anything. Now get out! You're starting to give me a headache."

He then turned and made his way over to the trashcan to dump the dustpan.

_He_ was getting a headache? This kid was driving Mamoru nuts! Not to mention that he'd already bludgeoned him with a lamp!

"You don't want anything?" Mamoru said. "Nothing at all?"

"Nope," he said. "And you're the last person-" he stopped dead in his tracks.

Turning, he regarded Mamoru for a moment, before smirking evilly.

"Tuxedo Kamen?" he called innocently.

Mamoru nodded, though he could feel a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"I might be able to use your help…just how good are you at matchmaking?"

What the hell?

"Um, I'm about average," Mamoru said dimly.

Liar. He knew nothing that. He'd rather die than be subjected to something like that.

Sadao shuffled his feet, though there was a contemplative stare on his face. "Then actually, I do need your help."

Was this kid seriously going to ask him for love advice? Was he nuts? Mamoru gulped. "Anything."

At that moment, Mamoru could feel the devil scurry up the stairway from hell, rip his soul out of him, shove it in a dirt sack, tie it with some twine, and then run back down with it to lock it away for the rest of eternity.

What could he say in this situation? Shit? That didn't seem nearly awful enough. What had the Odango called him last Tuesday? A dirty, rotten, conniving rabbit weener? That'd work.

"You see, there's this girl," Sadao began.

Oh no.

"I've known her for a really long time, since around the second grade actually."

Oh _hell_ no.

"She's really pretty and down to Earth, and I've been trying to get her attention for a while…"

Why him? Why was it always him? But he had to do it, his mind argued. Take one for the team, Mamoru, for the Ginzushou!

"But she hates me."

Mamoru choked as his stomach shriveled away. This was bad…this was _very_ bad!

"Well," he said shakily. "Why does this-this girl hate you?" He could think of a million good reasons.

Sadao blushed and turned away. "I tease her."

"You tease her?" Mamoru asked slowly.

"And yell at her. And I call her stupid and ugly. And I sometimes trip her."

Mamoru, despite himself, furrowed his brow. "Why the hell do you do all that if you like this girl?"

"I don't know…"

He could feel the sweat forming on his forehead.

"I-um, what exactly did you want _me_ to do about this?"

Sadao suddenly looked up and glared at him. "You said you would help me!"

"I—err, with what?"

He blushed angrily. "Fine! If you're not going to help me, then I guess-,"

Mamoru waved his hands frantically. "No, that's not it! What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to…to help me win her over," he stated nervously.

Mamoru felt like if he blinked, an invisible bomb would go off. "You want me to do _what?_"

Sadao smacked a hand to his face, cursing under his breath. "Oh for God's sake! If _you_ help _me_ get this girl to like me back, then I will give you the necklace!"

Holy rabbit weeners, or whatever other curse word he could think of at the moment. This was going to be…not fun. Not fun at all. He, Mamoru, the most socially challenged person on the planet, was being practically _forced _into helping a fifteen year old boy win over his crush!

"I never said I was forcing you," said Sadao conceitedly.

Mamoru's eyes widened in shock. "How the hell did you hear that?"

"You said it…without hesitating…"

"Oh," Mamoru said, feeling genuinely embarrassed. How the heck had he slipped up like that? With a sigh, Mamoru took a step forward. "So who is this girl, anyway?"

Sadao swallowed. "She's in my grade, and a lot of people know her. She's probably the nicest girl in Juuban, no, in the world."

Oh. A huge weight was lifted from Mamoru's shoulders. Well then, that sounded incredibly easy then. Sadao wasn't in any way bad looking, so it might be possible for even him to hook these two people up.

"Okay," Mamoru said with a lot more confidence. "What's her name?"

"Tsukino Usagi."

"Holy rabbit weeners, no! I won't do it!" he blurted out before he could stop it. If this was the Tsukino Usagi he was thinking of, Odango Atama, then there was no way he would go through with this.

"Don't you want that crystal…and did you just say rabbit weeners?"

Mamoru shook his head, still frazzled, and grunted, "Sorry…just ignore my stupidity for the moment…Motoki's really starting to rub off on me…"

Sadao's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Who's Motoki?"

"Never mind. Does this girl happen to be as dumb as a shovel and does she also trip over anything that doesn't trip over her first?"

Sadao nodded.

What-no-she-it couldn't be!

"And does this girl happen to have long blonde hair in a ridiculous style that makes it really easy to annoy her with?" Mamoru asked weakly.

Sadao frowned. "Yes, but I think it's cute!"

Something in Mamoru seemed to shrivel up and die in that moment.

Rabbit weeners indeed.

* * *

Hey, about the ammonia and bleach thing; don't take that seriously. I read it off wikipedia in less than five minutes so I doubt it's acutally true...Ahh, it's good to be back...

Please Review!

-Fishyscales ;)


	2. Plan of Action

Wow, you guys. That was a _really _long wait, and I'm really sorry about that. This chapter took a really long time for me to write...  
Special thanks to my beta, **StarryNight101 **(check out her stories), who has done an amazing job!

Since this year is finally winding down into summer, I will hopefully have more time to write. Expect some random updates of drabbles and one-shot type things to keep you guys with something while I'm off doing whatever it is that Fishies do...and I'll also be working on other stories, like the one to go with Fickle Lines, along with this one, of course. I doubt, however, I will ever make the wait for the next chapter as long as it was again. I'm really sorry about that.

**Oh, and also:** apparently, as I'm trying to post it, keeps editing my - marks, so instead of getting a good three of them, they're only letting me use one dash, so I'm sorry for the format of that; it won't let me change it. Jeez, it's like there's a shortage or something...

Don't own Sailor Moon: never have, never will.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Standing Aside**

**Chapter 2: Plan of Action**

by sakanascales876**  
**

* * *

"-So you broke this kid's antique lamp, and now in return he wants you to set him up on a date with Usagi-chan?" Motoki said disbelievingly-something Mamoru had grown accustomed to over the years.

"You hit the nail on the head, Motoki," Mamoru sighed, slouching over onto the counter. The throbbing ache in the back of his head was beating the living daylights out of his energy levels…he was too tired to even glare when Motoki started laughing loudly at him.

"You've gotta admit," he snorted. "This is going to be _funny as hell_!"

"No, it's not," Mamoru sort of grumbled, not even lifting his head or opening his eyes. "This is going to be the worst possible thing that's ever happened to me, and that's saying a lot…"

Motoki scoffed and leaned against the sink. "Oh, come on; you don't _sound_ too depressed about it."

"That's because there's a swell on the back of my head that will soon have its own gravitational orbit if you don't get me some ice."

Motoki grinned and scooped up a cup of ice from the dispenser, sliding it over to Mamoru who placed it haphazardly on his head. With a groan, Mamoru disappeared behind his arms, letting his sorrowful cry be drowned by his jacket sleeve.

"Cheer up; it won't be so bad. For all we know, they'll be married by this time in a couple of years," Motoki began a bit uncomfortably, reaching out to pat his friend's shoulder but pulling it back at the last minute. He didn't need a good fist in the jaw at the moment.

With slow movements, Mamoru carefully turned his head so that Motoki could see his eyes, while managing to keep the cup in place. "That's a nice thought, but I really hope that wasn't your daily fortune cookie advice, Motoki-kun. If it was, then I'm screwed."

"Well…I don't really know what to tell you, Mamoru," Motoki mumbled, plopping on the stool next to him. His eyes wandered to the small television behind the counter. "This whole thing is kind of iffy to me-still funny-" he stopped that train of thought as Mamoru shot him a glare. "But I have to say that I'm not particularly fond of this whole 'Let's set Usa-chan up with a stranger' thing."

Mamoru quickly turned to him, confused. "What do you mean, 'stranger'?"

"Who is this Sadao kid anyway? I've never seen or heard of him until now, and almost every single kid that has ever gone to Usagi-chan's school hangs out here at some point in time."

"Odango hates the kid."

"So what?" Motoki stated, rising in height a little bit with his eyebrows furrowed. "Even so, I don't see why the fact that she hates him would make him stay away from here. I mean, come on! This is the _Crown_ we're talking about."

Mamoru snorted at Motoki's sardonic grin. "Of course; how could anyone ever hate this-_oh my Lord; is that a cockroach_?"

Motoki paled as a group of teenage girls sitting in a nearby booth squealed and ran out, deserting their food. Panicked, he leapt up. "No-no! He's just kidding!"

The clerk shot Mamoru a look as he ushered and persuaded the girls back inside, offering them all free refills. When they were finally placated, Motoki made his way back over to his stool and slumped into it, considering smacking Mamoru's already abused head.

"I should beat the living shit out of you for that," he voiced, stretching his arms lethargically across the counter.

Mamoru didn't move at all, but Motoki could tell there was a smirk on his lips. "It's not nice to hit the ill, Motoki."

"Yeah: ill in the head. But what were we talking about?" he asked, squinting to see the T.V.

Mamoru shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I don't know…I'm pretty sure that you were trying to convince me that Kyuubei-san's a suspicious character."

"Oh, yeah," Motoki yawned. But shortly after, his expression became grave. "I'm serious about that, Mamoru. Usa tells me _everything_ when she talks to me, starting with her first period class all the way to her detentions at the end of the day. Nothing has ever been mentioned about this guy, and if he's supposedly even more horrible to her than you are, why haven't I ever heard of him? She complains to me about _you _all the time, and from what _you're_ telling me, this Sadao-kid thing makes your comments seem like compliments to her."

Mamoru nearly sat up at this information. It's not as if these thoughts hadn't been running through his mind, as well. But now with each point that Motoki brought to his attention, he was starting to question who this Sadao boy really was. Half of him wanted to brush this info aside, but his more logical half was starting to really break down what Motoki had said. It was true; the Odango was _incredibly_ open about her emotions, feelings, and personal problems, yet this was the first time either of them had ever heard about Kyuubei Sadao. Who was this boy?

_What_ was he?

The thought that he was an enemy had occurred to him more than once in the past few hours, but never as strongly as this. Crucial, unanswered questions were starting to link in his head. How was it that the boy's grandfather even came into contact with the Ginzuishou in the first place? And did that man even know that the thing he wore around his neck like a trinket was really the most powerful object in existence?

Questioning the boy was out of the question. Admittedly, both of their tempers were very high, and one slip of the tongue could mean a whole lot of unnecessary crap for Mamoru. He would have to silently observe…gather information slowly by trying to get to know more about this boy.

Slowly, he regained awareness of his surroundings. Actually, who was surrounding him. He could tell that Motoki was growing impatient, and a bit uncomfortable at his sudden silence, so he turned to the clerk.

"Yeah, that's pretty weird," he agreed, not entirely remembering what his friend had just said, but eager to change the subject nonetheless. "But hey, do you have any advice or tips on how to help me get these two together?"

Motoki scratched his head tentatively. "I'm not really sure that I want to get caught up in all of this, Mamoru-kun."

"Wait, what do you-you're not going to help me?" he asked, a little taken aback.

Conflicted, Motoki couldn't meet his friend's eyes as he spoke, "'M sorry, man, but I don't especially like screwing with Usa-chan's love life like this." At Mamoru's snort, his almond eyes narrowed. "I _do_ have a conscience, you know."

"So you're not going to help _me_, your _best_ friend? You're seriously going to side with the girl who just _last week_, got her hand stuck in the vending machine because she _thought_ that by climbing inside she'd be taken to _Narnia_! What. The hell."

Motoki frowned. "Come on; lighten up on the poor girl. I actually find it refreshing that she can keep such a spirit, even with all the crud that life throws at her."

"And I find it disturbing that she's actually managed to survive beyond her toddler years."

"Well, say what you want, but she's like the little sister I always wanted, but I got stuck with Unazuki instead."

Mamoru gave a half-hearted smile at this. "I'll be sure to tell her that the next time she's on shift. But can't you just give me a couple pointers?" he asked slowly, his eyes fluttering shut with fatigue and an unknown sense or emotion that seemed to be tugging at the back of his mind.

"First off: that jacket's hideous."

"Yeah, well, so are you," Mamoru grumbled sorely. "I meant something helpful."

"Shoot, Mamoru-kun; what am I supposed to do? In case you haven't noticed, I practically chased my last girlfriend to Africa, so I'm not sure why I'm regarded as a whiz at love all of a sudden."

"You can't be any worse at this than me. Trust me," Mamoru said honestly, plucking the cup off of his head as it was now starting to sweat. "Just tell me what she likes or how to go about this…I haven't got a clue otherwise."

"What's in it for me?"

"Needy little beast, aren't you?" Mamoru sighed. "I don't know…what do you want?"

To Mamoru's vexation, it didn't take Motoki that long to think. "The Arcade's hosting its annual Easter egg hunt, and I'm a couple men short. Do the math from there."

"No."

"Do you want my help or not?" Motoki asked, getting a bit agitated himself.

"Yes…I feel like I'm getting the short end of the stick in this deal, Motoki-kun," he began reluctantly. "But I guess I'll do it as long as I don't have to wear one of those stupid costume-"

"I've already got it picked out: it's a chicken costume and I just need your measurements so I know where to hem the legs. You'll also have to go out and get a pair of orange slippers because I don't know how great a chicken wearing size twelve black dress-shoes is going to look…"

Exasperated, Mamoru slumped his head against the counter, only adding to the pain of his already throbbing head. "You'd better have some _damn_ good advice."

Motoki sighed. "Alright. First, you should get him to give her some flowers: probably roses. Maybe some candy, too…"

"That would just make him look like a total creeper and you know it. It's got to go a bit slower than that."

"Oh, I know!" Motoki snapped his fingers. "If you _tell_ or hint that Sadao-whatever likes her, she may give him a chance to you know, like _repent_ and stuff."

"Way to be articulate-"

"That'll never work."

Mamoru jumped and turned to his right where the voice had come from. His eyes met the bubbly yet serious ones of a blonde girl with a red bow tying up her hair. Aino-something? He couldn't remember her first name. But luckily, Motoki did, and with a nervous chuckle, he greeted her.

"Hey, Minako-chan. How's it going?"

She still seemed vivacious but she also held their gazes, unwavering. "Fine, as always, Motoki-kun. But that's not important. I know Usagi-chan and she'll never fall for something that ridiculous…_especially _if it's the Kyuubei-san that I think we're talking about."

Mamoru resisted the urge to glare at her. "How much of our conversation did you hear?"

"Enough," she said airily, waving her hand dismissively, "to know that you're trying to set her up with the kid she absolutely despises. But other than that, not a lot."

Unknowingly, Mamoru raised his eyebrow. He had never talked to Minako directly, and he was a bit thrown-off with the way she could put something so bluntly but say it in a way that didn't make you want to punch her.

Mamoru still did, though. Eavesdropping was eavesdropping.

"Aino-san," he began, choosing his words carefully so as not to sound rude. "Motoki-kun and I were kind of having a private conversation-"

He was surprised at how quickly she could get into his face.

"About _my_ best friend, who I love to death and I don't think she needs to have you screwing with her life." She didn't take her eyes off of his as she said this, and Mamoru was trying his best not to blink. "So choose your next words carefully, Chiba-san. Usagi-chan's on my speed dial and I'm positive she'd _love_ to hear about this."

"Do I sense a disturbance in the force?" a voice commented from his other side. This one, however, Mamoru did recognize. He turned to see Kino Makoto sipping idly on some tea, eyeing them both with interest. "What'd he do to Usagi-chan now? I heard her name."

Motoki and Mamoru watched helplessly as Minako leant around him and said, "This joker over here-" she pointed to Mamoru, "is trying to set Usagi-chan up with Sadao-kun."

"No!" Makoto gasped.

"I know!" Minako replied.

Mamoru and Motoki both resisted the urge to laugh at this, but Mamoru could slowly feel Makoto leaning closer to him.

The end of her straw jabbed into his cheek, causing him to lean back from her. She searched his eyes, and with a faltering voice due to suppressed laughter, she said, "Why?"

He frowned. "Why what?"

"Why are you trying to set up Usagi-chan with Sadao-baka?" she asked, whipping her straw around as she spoke. He saw Motoki flinch beside him at the tea splatters that were now decorating his counter.

Mamoru cautiously shrugged, keeping his eyes locked somewhat seriously with hers. "I owe him a favor; that's what he asked of me."

She nodded and went back to sipping her tea. "Pretty intense, man." He was thankful when she didn't pry any further.

That, he could have covered up, but what she said next was exactly what he didn't want to argue about at the moment. "I don't like that kid and neither does Usagi-chan. There's not a hamster's chance in water that those two will ever get together…at least, not the way they argue."

Minako nodded, agreeing. "I don't see why all of a sudden he just likes her and needs _help_ from someone else just to let her know it. He's a pretty prideful kid."

"Not to mention he's an ass," Makoto added. "I still haven't forgiven him for the 'giant' jibes he's been giving me. Squeezed mustard packets all over the front of his locker, though."

Once again, Minako nodded, but with a slight laugh. "He'd need all the help in the world to even get a chance with Usagi. And no offense, but you don't seem like the _best_ choice he could've gone to. Really, when it comes to taunts, you're no better than him."

"Unless of course you've been secretly pining over her this whole while," Makoto slyly commented, but upon noticing Mamoru's furious stare she added, "Which I _highly_ doubt."

"Hey, girls," Mamoru began angrily. "Want to butt the hell out of our conversation?"

"I don't know," Makoto said casually. "Want me to shove my foot where the sun don't shine?" Her eyes threatened warningly. "I get that you want to play the whole, 'man on a mission', thing, but unfortunately you've involved us by involving our best friend, and we take our 'missions' very _seriously_."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it? I have to do this for that kid or-"

"We could help you…or we could just completely ruin this for you, Mamoru-kun." Minako stared at him, eyebrows raised.

Mamoru considered for a moment, knowing that inside help from these two could be exactly what he needed in this situation, but it was too risky. How could he know that they weren't just going to go tell the Odango everything instead? He couldn't. "Thanks, but…I'll just try what Motoki-kun said-"

"Score!" Motoki hissed happily with a slight fist-pump.

Minako sighed, and with a little roll of her eyes, snatched the offered milkshake out of Motoki's hands. "Let's go, Mako-chan. It looks like we won't even have to bother here; he'll screw it up himself just fine. Nice talking to you."

Flipping her hair over her shoulder so it almost smacked him in the face, Minako gave him one last contemptuous look before exiting, Makoto in tow.

Mamoru scowled after them. "Are any of the Odango's friends what you or I would consider relatively normal?"

He saw Motoki begin to scrub down the counter beside him. "Eh, not really, but they're good kids. Just a little high maintenance, you know?"

"High maintenance…so that's what they're calling it now?"

As he said this, another figure entered the Crown; one with a scowl and an attitude begging for someone to kick him in the face. He inclined his head slightly at Mamoru's gaze, sitting at a booth in the back and taking out his cell phone to make it look like he was texting somebody.

"And so we begin," Mamoru muttered with a sense of foreboding, standing from his stool and snatching up his coffee. "That's him, Motoki-kun."

Motoki blatantly peered over his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowing as he took sight of the kid. "That's the ever powerful Sadao? Did someone paint that scowl on his face, or does he just do that for fun?"

Mamoru shrugged. "I can never tell." Reluctantly, he abandoned the counter and made his way across the room until he reached the booth and seated himself across Sadao. The teen immediately stuffed his phone into his pocket, confirming the suspicion that he hadn't really been talking to anyone. Sadao crept to the edge of his chair, leaning slightly on the table while he looked expectantly at Mamoru.

"What's the plan for today?" he asked, immediately getting to the point.

Mamoru raised an eyebrow. "I thought today would be about _making _the plan."

Sadao crossed his arms over his chest and slumped in his seat. From what Mamoru could tell, he was about to put his feet up on the table had it not been for Motoki's watchful eye from the counter.

"So, you don't even have a plan yet?" Shaking his head he murmured, "Figures."

"Well, considering it hasn't even been twelve hours since I last saw you, and that I've recently suffered a _mysterious _injury to my cranium, I don't think you have earned the right to be breathing down my neck already. I've got a life, too, you know."

_Yeah,_ he scoffed inwardly,_ barely._

"Yes, but your life seems to revolve quite a bit around this Ginzuishou; unfortunately, you're actually going to have to work to get it. Oh, and just say, 'head'. No one likes a walking dictionary."

"Keep your voice _down_," Mamoru spat, ignoring that last part. "You _cannot_ bring that up in public."

Sadao rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Yeah, because there's obviously a youma hiding behind that potted plant over there, I'm sure."

Mamoru went rigid. "Where did you hear that term?"

"Uh-you kind of _said _it-"

"I have _never_ mentioned that around you." Mamoru shook his head, his eyes narrowing in on the indifferent boy.

Before he could get any further, however, Motoki appeared behind them. The clerk did _not_ look happy…at all. He wasn't even wearing his apron, Mamoru noted.

"What would you guys like today?" Motoki interrupted with a frown, his eyes boring into Sadao's all the while.

"Coffee," Sadao grunted.

"I'm fine," Mamoru said, holding up his half finished cup.

Motoki nodded, his eyes lingering just a while longer before he turned away. Mamoru watched Motoki walk briskly over to the kitchen until Sadao called, "Furuhata-san!"

Motoki craned his neck with a sour expression. "What?"

He paused before giving a smirk. "Don't go cheap on the creamer," he said flatly, adding in a wink at the last moment. It was instantaneous. The moment Motoki turned around in a daze the atmosphere became so thick that it was difficult for Mamoru to breathe. For a minute, it seemed to look like the air was being disturbed like that of in a heat wave. He felt like he was hacking on a wishbone, but Sadao looked content.

"Having an issue?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I know most super-heroes are stereotypically nutters, but-"

"Shut up."

Sadao raised his hands and rolled his eyes. "Just trying to offer a friendly hand of assistance; no need to start hyperventilating over it-"

"I'm nearly hyperventilating," Mamoru gasped, clutching at his chest and sinking lower into the table so that no one would hear him breathing heavily, "Because of whatever little stunt you pulled back there."

"What are you on about now?" Sadao returned distractedly. "Oh, hey, I don't mean to give Furuhata a hard time but that guy looked like he was ready to strangle me with his apron strings and then drop kick me off the roof of this building."

Mamoru's eyes narrowed in on the boy, his lungs finally regaining control. He knew he had to phrase his next sentence carefully, because although Sadao knew his darkest secret, he couldn't disclose too much. And if this kid _was_ some kind of enemy to him, wouldn't it be reasonable to keep as much to himself as possible so as not to give the boy an advantage? Calmly, he reached over and straightened the menu display on the table, deciding on his next words.

"I felt strange there a second ago…did you feel anything?"

"Felt strange?" Sadao chortled. "That was a freaking spazz-attack if I've ever seen one. I think we could have you committed for this, Chiba."

Mamoru nearly growled in frustration. "Yeah, probably. But did you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

Ah, a reaction, Mamoru noted with relish as the boy began to nervously tug on his bangs, an odd habit for a boy, but an obviously anxious one. "The air became so thick; I couldn't even breathe for a minute, there."

"No, can't say I did. There's Motoki with the coffee," he seemed to point out absentmindedly, but Mamoru knew that he was merely trying to avoid the subject. But it turned out in the boy's favor, for when Motoki approached them he seemed to be in a trance of some sort. He set their cups down almost robotically, not looking at either of them, or anything else for that matter, as he did it.

Concerned, Mamoru grasped the clerk's arm as he was about to leave. "Motoki-kun, are you alright?"

He stiffly nodded, taking a small moment to shrug Mamoru's arm off before walking away. He passed quietly by at least three other customers that were practically shouting for his attention. When the kitchen doors closed swiftly behind him, Mamoru was almost tempted to follow.

"What's wrong with him?" Sadao commented almost snidely, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Whatever his suspicions were before that this kid was no good, Mamoru could now take them and multiply them by an octillion and then _square _it.

"Don't know," Mamoru started angrily. "You tell me."

"Hey, I didn't mean it like _that_, but you can't blame me for not liking the guy that gives me the evil eye whenever I walk into the room!"

"Well, that guy that you _don't_ like was just telling me of a great way to get this whole set-up started, so I suggest you change your attitude around him and me if you want to get anywhere."

"Oh? And what would that be?" Sadao asked, blatantly ignoring Mamoru's irritation and sitting up straighter in his seat. He blinked a few times before his eyes widened, meeting Mamoru's with a grimace.

Just then, Mamoru felt a presence over his shoulder that was casting a tiny shadow over their table.

A shadow with Odangos.

"Usagi-san," Sadao greeted coolly. "How's the weather down there?"

By this time, Mamoru had turned in his seat to see Usagi hovering over them, arms crossed over her chest and a calculating scowl on her face.

Mamoru inclined his head to her. "Odango." Even though he was pretty sure that he'd have to see a lot more of her the next couple of weeks, that didn't make him want to talk to her. It'd be enough for him to have to deal with Sadao's remarks; he didn't need her whining in addition.

"What's going on here?" she asked-no, more like demanded. While she was standing over their table, Mamoru could feel her eyes on him rather than Sadao, who didn't look like he was prone to answer her even if it _had_ been directed at him.

"Just sipping some coffee, catching up on studying-something you wouldn't know about…" he replied casually. "How about you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I was wondering why on earth the two of you are sitting here together."

"Two friends can't sit together and have some coffee?" Even to him that sounded like the biggest BS lie in the history of life. He didn't even have to look over at Sadao to tell that the boy was probably wincing over it.

"They can't when it's the two of you," she stated bitterly. "I didn't even think you two knew each other, but then again, I guess it makes sense for jerks like you to stick together."

Sadao shrugged his shoulders dramatically, heaving a sigh. "Can't get anything past you, Usagi. If you must know, Mamoru-san has kindly agreed to tutor me in Physics."

Mamoru blinked before nodding up at her in affirmation. Usagi just blinked back at the two of them blankly.

"Wait…there's a Physics class for our grade?" she asked. "I've never heard-"

"Oh, well that's probably because you've got to at _least_ have the IQ of an orange to get in, but other than that, it's pretty exclusive."

There it was: the tensed shoulders, white knuckles, and fuming eyes. Mamoru had expected this to happen, but for some reason, it never got old.

"I think she's going to explode," he whispered loudly to Sadao with a smirk.

Sadao nodded, cracking a toothy smile. "Maybe if we just smile and nod, she'll leave."

"I can hear you," Usagi growled. Mamoru resisted the urge to laugh. Had they not been in a public place, he was pretty sure she would've thrown something at one of them.

"Kind of the point, Odango Atama. That would sort of suck if I really whispered like that…then how would I laugh with Motoki-kun behind your back over your silly little crush on him?"

He wasn't really surprised when Sadao began to laugh, but it sounded forced, almost. Even Usagi seemed to wince a little bit at the sound, but to Mamoru…it sounded nervous.

"That's none of _your_ business!" she squealed an octave higher than necessary. Sadao, who Mamoru noticed was cringing, was also biting his tongue and withholding laughter.

"And yet you came over here to butt into ours? Tsk. Tsk. Hypocritical, Usagi-san."

"That's Tsukino to _you_," she said rancorously, then added with a nod to Mamoru, "And _you_."

He blinked. "My god; she learned a pronoun!"

Sadao clapped mockingly while Mamoru suppressed a grin as Motoki retook his position at the counter. Usagi, breathing heavily, slowly backed away-but not before giving them the 'I'm watching you' hand gesture and sticking out her tongue at them.

When she had made her way into the game rows on the other side of the Arcade, Mamoru sighed, logic having finally returned to him.

"We shouldn't have done that."

Sadao raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Slumping across the table, Mamoru took a long sip of his coffee. "Goad her like that. It kind of defeats the purpose of what we're trying to accomplish here."

Sadao downcast his eyes in irritation. "Eh…you're right."

"Strange how that seems to happen so often…"

"What now?" Sadao asked, drumming his fingers erratically on the table. "Oh, wait. What were you telling me before?"

Mamoru frowned. "About what?"

"Something that Furahata guy said, I think."

"Oh, right. Furuhata_-san_ was telling me that I should just tell the Odango that you like her and obtain a reaction from her; she may give you another chance if you start being nice to her and then apologi-"

"That's got to be the dumbest thing I have _ever_ heard. Don't you _dare_ tell her."

Hearing the teen's voice raise a slight bit made Mamoru somewhat slam his cup down. "Listen! We've got to come up with _something_. The longer we sit here debating is more time we've lost."

Sadao eyed Mamoru crossly, gripping the edges of the table and leaning forward. "Well, forgive me if I want to get things done _right_. It's not my fault that you can't come up with a decent plan-"

"Like I've told you; I'm not going to be the one that busts my ass in this, Kyuubei! We're doing this for _you_ so you've got to contribute some things. Shooting down whatever isn't in your comfort zone is _not_ going to help."

Sadao's nostrils flared, and Mamoru realized that this could very easily turn into shouting, and then fist fighting, if things didn't settle down. He willed his face from intense to impassive, quietly exhaling to calm himself down. Sadao followed suit, sinking back into his seat and scowling at whatever was behind Mamoru.

The two sat in stillness for a few moments, leaving Mamoru to his thoughts, briefly. He kept his eyes trained on Motoki, who was now frivolously restocking the napkins for each table. After a long time of debating with himself, he finally decided to ask, "How did your Grandfather come into possession of the Ginzuishou?"

Mamoru couldn't see what the teen's reaction was, but he could tell that the moment he had realized what was asked, he became as rigid as a corpse. "Why…would you ask that?"

Mamoru snorted, still finding himself a tad sour. "That's like asking why the sky is blue. I asked because I wanted to know. How did he attain it?"

Fidgeting with his stirring straw, Sadao fixated his eyes on the overhead lights. "I-don't really know. I heard him mention something about it getting passed down from somebody, but I have no clue. Probably found it while riffling through the neighbor's trash. He does that a lot…thinks people waste too much…"

Upon noticing that Mamoru had his nose wrinkled in disgust, he added indignantly, "He's not weird!"

"Uh-huh."

Scowling, Sadao slumped in his chair, his face barely visible. "What do we do now?"

Mamoru brushed his comment aside and stood, stretching his arms behind his head. He grimaced as he heard his knuckles crack; it sounded disgusting, but it felt really good. With a stifled yawn, Mamoru made his way over to Motoki, leaving a perplexed Sadao behind.

"Good to see you're a little better, Motoki-kun," Mamoru commented as the clerk slowly made himself a milkshake.

Motoki gave a confused chuckle. "Uhh…what was wrong with me?"

"I don't know; I thought you were sick or something. You were acting strange earlier." Mamoru frowned.

Motoki just poured half a gallon of chocolate syrup on his milkshake, unconcerned. "Whatever you say…"

Rolling his eyes, Mamoru turned his head and nodded for Sadao to join them. At first, Sadao looked a bit hesitant, but as he approached the counter, "You went cheap on the creamer, Furuhata-san."

Instead of getting angry as Mamoru thought he would, Motoki just laughed and shrugged off his apron. "If I had put any more in there, Kyuubei, I would have just been giving you a cup _full_ of creamer. How's school been going?"

Mamoru blinked and looked between the two of them. Motoki didn't even know the kid and Sadao-well, he was going on as if it was a normal occurrence. He warily took a step back and scrutinized the two. Sadao couldn't have been more of a suspicious character to him had he been creeping around in a trench coat and sunglasses. And Motoki was asking all sorts of personal questions like, "How's your Grandfather? Are you managing the store okay?"

What the hell was going on?

"Motoki," Mamoru interrupted. "I need to ask you something."

"Yeah?"

"What's Aino-san's number?"

Motoki regarded him cautiously. "Why?"

"I wanted to apologize for earlier," he lied. "Can you dial it out on the Arcade phone and I'll talk to her?"

Motoki nodded slowly, walking with an even slower pace to the phone. He dialed and then held the phone out to Mamoru who grabbed it swiftly and watched as Motoki and Sadao continued on with their weird conversation.

"Hello?" he heard Minako purr into the phone. "Motoki-san?"

"Uh, no," he swallowed awkwardly. "It's Mamoru-Chiba."

Although she didn't speak for a few moments, Mamoru could sense her disappointment.

"Did you need something?"

"Uhhh-" he craned his neck to see Motoki and Sadao still talking. "Can you meet me at Juuban Park in around fifteen to twenty minutes? I kind of want to talk to you."

"Sure! I'm right around the corner. By the swings, okay?"

Mamoru felt stupid for nodding into the phone. "Yes. See you."

Putting the phone back into its receiver, Mamoru strode over to Motoki and Sadao.

"Hey, I've got to go now; I forgot that I have a class in twenty minutes." He nodded politely to them and made his way to the door when he felt Sadao grasp his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "We were supposed to plan today!"

Mamoru shrugged his hand off and continued out. "Don't worry: tomorrow."

…/…/…/…/…/…

"Let me get this straight: You broke Sadao-san's antique lamp, so now you've got to set him up with Usa-chan or…?"

No Maboroshi no Ginzuishou. "I don't really want to think about the 'or'." Mamoru chuckled timidly as he watched Minako burst into laughter, nearly tumbling from her swing.

He leaned contentedly against a neon yellow tunnel. At first, he thought that the moment he stepped into Aino-san's company, he would be in hell. He'd have to watch what he said, watch what he did-but no. The first thing that came out of her mouth when he arrived was, "I thought that my cat followed me here for a minute, but if he was I shook him off."

Aside from the obvious mental…_issues_, Minako was relatively easy to get along with. Unlike before, when she'd been shoving question after question his way.

Still laughing, Minako dug her bare toes (her shoes being in the tunnel he was leaning on) into the mulch and pushed off from the ground, propelling herself forward. She gave a tiny pout when she saw that she hadn't even made it a good four feet off the ground.

"Mamoru-kun, will you give me a push? Apparently gravity isn't as cool as I thought."

He obliged, even though he felt incredibly awkward as he walked up behind her and shoved her. But to acquire what he needed he would have to make a few sacrifices on his part. Personally, he thought she would have been cross with him about how he'd brushed off her and Kino-san earlier. She was being awfully kind about it, or perhaps it was just an act? He could've been wrong, but Minako seemed to be the true-blue ditzy blonde right up there with the Odango.

He noticed that he'd been wrong about a lot of things that day.

"So you need to set him up with Usagi, right?"

"Yes."

"And let me guess: you need _my_ expertise, oui? Oh, and a little higher, slave."

Mamoru grinned and gave her at least another eight feet off the ground. He had to be careful not to push any harder because one, it would be suspicious. Two, the swing would probably go all the way over the bar and hurt her.

"I need your help, but the expertise would be good, too."

Mamoru couldn't have been prepared for what she did afterwards. As the swing went up into the air, so did Minako…the swing came back down, though. He hadn't been looking, but the next thing he knew, she was sitting on the swing set on the main supporting beam.

"How's the weather down there, eh?" she sang.

He smiled. "Slightly windy with a chance of precipitation. How about you?"

"It's always sunny wherever I'm at!"

He commenced to laugh, but not because he was forced. It was one of the truly genuine times he had ever laughed, and it felt good, lightening. It was smothered with a serious thought, however. He _had _come there with a purpose.

"Will you help me then?" he called up to her, feeling a little uneasy that she could so easily see his expressions when he couldn't see hers.

There was silence for a moment; and then two, three-four.

"Against my better judgment…Mamoru-kun, I will help you."

Mamoru released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thank yo-"

"_BUT_, I want to clarify that I'm helping you because I think this is legitimate. If this is a prank of-"

"I would never-"

"I'm pretty sure _you _wouldn't, but I can't know about _him_. If he really likes her, then I want his cooperation as well. And unless it can clearly be pinned on Sadao-san, I'm holding you responsible for any tear that Usagi sheds. Are we understood?"

The second time he had seen it that day: the gravity that Minako showed when it came to anything revolving around her friends. Although this was probably going to be the one quality that would hinder Mamoru in his plans, he found that it was probably the quality that made him actually want to be around Minako. Underneath the rainbow saran-wrap shield of bubbliness and cheer was a loyal and persevering person.

Looking up at her, half anxious and half content, Mamoru began, "What do you think we should do first then, Aino-"

"That's _Minako_-chan to you, bub. And firstly, don't listen to a single _word_ that Motoki said to you. He is in no shape to be giving love advice, and he's not good at it either." She rolled her eyes down at him. "Believe me, dahling, I would know."

"Okay, so what would probably be a good start would be to sign the two of you up for the Arcade Easter Egg hunt; you'll have to wear costumes. And if he says, 'Oh, I'm an Atheist' or something like that, then drag him down there anyway. Rei's going to help, so he's got no excuse. And we're going to have to find a way to-"

"Ai-Minako-chan," he cut her off, fearing that his brain could not process all the ramblings. "Let's do one thing at a time. I'm going to call Motoki-kun now."

"Tell him I say hi!" she called with a little wave, for whatever reason.

It only took one ring before he answered. "Crown Arcade, this is Motoki speaking. How may I help you?"

"It's Mamoru."

"Tell him Minako says hi!"

"Oh, hey Mamoru-kun. I thought you were in class right now…?"

"Yeah," Mamoru began. "Let us off early because of some construction that needed to be done on campus. I wanted to tell you to sign up Sadao-san for tomorrow's egg hunt, okay?"

The instantaneous squeal on the other end of the line almost made him drop his phone. Holding it away from his ear as Motoki went off into a tangent, Mamoru sighed.

"TELL HIM MINAKO SAYS HI!"

"And Minako says hello," Mamoru added quickly, before he got a headache, or worse: someone stopped and stared at them.

"Oh, tell Minako-chan that I say hello back!"

"He says hello back," Mamoru said monotonously, watching with fascination as Minako nearly had a heart attack.

"But no, that's okay. Bring him with you tomorrow Mamoru-kun. I'll have an extra costume ready," Motoki instructed.

Mamoru nodded up at Minako and then said to Motoki, "Thanks, man. I'll see you tomorrow." He hung up, and placed his phone back into his pocket, looking up at Minako expectantly. For what, he didn't yet know.

"What now?"

Minako seemed to shake herself out of a daze, looking down cheerfully at Mamoru. "Nothing. We go home."

Nodding up at her, Mamoru prepared to turn around and leave. He didn't know how much more of Minako he could take. "Alright then; I'll see you tomorrow."

"Mamoru, wait!"

He turned, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"

She slowly began to turn red in the face. "Could-Could you help me down?"

* * *

Well, leave a review letting me know what you thought!

And once again, I've left the banana bread in the oven too long, so goodbye for now!

Stay well!

-Fishyscales ;)


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